Vault Number One
by Elevanya
Summary: Ever wonder who owned the first vault at Gringotts, or what was in it?
1. Chapter 1

_Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or anything else you recognize._

_A/N: I don't know about you, but I've noticed that all of the vaults that we visit in Gringotts are all really high numbers, like 713. I was wondering...who owns vault number one? What treasures lie behind that first door? Well, here's what I came up with._

Vault Number One

He pulled his cloak about him tighter as he stepped up the many marble steps leading to the Gringotts bank. It had been a long time since he stepped across this threshold, but the bank had not changed much. The goblins manning the counters, waiting on customers, and weighing jewels were all the same irritable beasties they always had been. A reassured smile crept across his lips before he resolutely suppressed it. A cold, calm, impenetrable mask fell over his face underneath his hood.

"Can I help you sir?" The nearest goblin asked irritably.

"No, not at the moment." Was his self assured answer.

He needed more time to think.

Memories belonging to more men than just himself played through his mind. He remembered the Ancient races of the world, both magical and muggle. He recalled a time when the line between the two was almost nonexistent. Thousands of years weighed on his soul. Thousands of lives, billions of deeds both good and bad. He remembered the building of the great pyramids in Egypt, the great Ishtar Gates, the massive temples of the Mayans and Aztecs. He had lived through all walks of life in all the ancient civilizations. He had been placed upon the sacrificial altar to offer himself to their gods many times, and many times he had struck the killing blow. He had fought in armies as both commander and common soldier. He had ruled empires, created them, and destroyed them. His lips had graced the hands of the beautiful Helen of Troy with a kiss in greeting. He had traded riddles with the Sphinx. He had seen the fall of Caesar and his great Rome.

Slowly, he had seen humankind and wizard-kind grow out of their dark ages, and into an age where thought and reason reigned, only for that worthy goal to be overthrown by the pursuit of beauty. Times had changed, people had changed, growing more advanced and civilized, but _he_ had remained the same, trapped, living the same life over and over again in an unbreakable cycle though the cast and scenery might change. To mortal kind he would appear to age, but always he would move on before they became suspicious.

In the wizard world he had witnessed the forming of a government. He had escaped witch hunts throughout history and had helped thousands to do the same. He had seen the rise and fall of at least one Dark Lord.

He had been there when the first stone of Gringotts, the goblin run wizard bank was laid upon the foundation, and had cast upon the mortar many of the spells that kept the building secure. He did not want his treasure falling into the wrong hands.

Though these memories had belonged to many men throughout history, all these had been him in some disguise. He was as ageless as the land on which he stood.

Making up his mind, he walked towards the counter.

"Can I help you?"

"Yes," He said in a calm, emotionless voice, "I would like to remove something from my vault."

"Very well, can I have your name?"

"I was not asked to give a name for it to be under when I created it."

The goblin looked non pulsed for a moment.

"Do you have a number and password then?"

"The password is Ancient One, and the vault is one."

He got a strange look from the goblin, but paid it no mind. The goblins had probably forgotten there was even a vault number one.

"Follow me, then."

He did follow, though they had not far to walk and it would not have been a challenge to find the vault. His goblin guide did not enter one of the carts that would swiftly carry its passengers deeper into the caverns. They instead walked to a stretch of wall that was across from the track. The wall appeared to be blank stone, but he was not fooled. To a mage's sight it would be clear that the chamber behind was accessible through the stone door melded almost seamlessly to the wall. Only a deeply rusted lock close to the floor on the right side of the door gave anything away to the less than careful eye.

He extracted a large, iron key from inside his cloak and inserted it into the key hole. Half expecting it to remain unlockable because of the rust, he was slightly surprised when the mechanism inside gave way cleanly. Still, the shock did not last. Not much surprised him for long anymore.

With a slight push, the door slid aside granting him entrance to the long unopened vault. Stale air whooshed past him, but he merely held his breath. The Egyptian tombs were worse. At first glance the vault appeared empty, but he was not discouraged. It was still here. Tucked in the far corner wrapped in a simple brown cloth and covered in dust was what he had come for. The small package fitted neatly in his fist as he left.

"Thank you, I will no longer need this vault." He told the goblin as he left, careful to keep his treasure concealed. The goblin growled about a waste of space and stalked away, leaving him alone.

Assured he was where no one could see, he carefully, almost reverently, extracted the object from its cloth covering. Sitting in his palm was a crystalline blue stone. It caught the torchlight of the cavern within its faceted depths and glowed with it. He smiled, knowing that compared to this gem, the Sorcerer's Stone was but a trinket.

_A/N: Well, that's it. Not much solved, but, there you go. I was planning this to be just a oneshot, but if enough people want me to continue I will, (though I would have no idea where it would be going or how long it would take to come up with a plot line). Please review, I need to know what you think._


	2. Chapter 2

_Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter, but I do own anything you don't recognize as a part of that series_

_A/N: This was originally going to be a oneshot, but all my reviwers wanted me to continue so here I am. I hope you like it..._

Vault Number One

The sun was bright on the cobblestones as he stepped out onto the streets of Diagon Alley with his prize secure on a heavy chain around his neck. The chain was thick enough that it wouldn't break and had no catch so it would not come undone unless it were lifted from his neck over his head. The metal of the chain was heavy enough that he would be able to tell if it was missing. The stone had been set so that it would be able to hang on this chain specifically and no other.

Two people passed, the smaller, a raven-haired boy around ten or eleven, bumped into him, jostling him enough so that he jerked his head in surprise.

Why had he not been able to sense the boy's approach. Despite the deep hood he wore that cut off one's peripheral vision, he had other means of detecting when people became to close. The skill had become second nature so that he no longer had to think to know when people approached, even when they came from behind. How had this little boy been able to circumvent it?

"Sorry sir!" The boy said timidly, looking up at him, trying to see into his deep hood. Not wanting to appear too suspicious to such an unassertive child, he warily lowered his hood.

"Do-" He stopped in mid sentence, and understanding suddenly hit him. This was a Chosen One, probably the one who had allegedly defeated the most recent Dark Lord. That was how the boy had approached him unnoticed. Both Chosen Ones and Dark Lords tended to have a certain aurora about them, something that blinded some extra senses a mage could develop. He did not know why this was so, simply that it was. He had encountered enough Chosen Ones and Dark Lords to learn this fact. He had also encountered enough to know that they rarely wanted to be singled out for any reason. "Do not worry yourself," He continued, hoping the boy had not noticed his slight pause.

The boy nodded and continued on his way, followed by a man quite larger than even the tallest human in a heavy overcoat a similar color to his thick beard. _That one has giant blood in him, _he thought silently to himself, filing the observation away in the event they ever met again. One never knew what would come in handy. The half-giant gave him a look that was almost suspicious in nature and he quickly pulled his hood back up. He knew his perfectly-plain face could be disconcerting. Most people tended to find one thing that was unique and recognizable about a persons face and latch onto it. When such a distinguishing feature was not present that person's face began to blur in the memory almost immediately, causing the viewer to doubt themselves. This doubting always left them uncomfortable. His plainness was handy to exploit when he did not want to be recognized, but he did not use it often, preferring to keep his face hidden. Even the plainest of faces could eventually be recognized enough to stand out to the wrong person. Nodding respectfully at the half-giant, he continued on his way, surreptitiously feeling for the weight at his neck. One could never be to careful.

Thus assured his treasure was secure, he made his way over to the Leaky Cauldron. He still had some errands to run, though not as important, but he needed to put the precious stone in a place where he could be assured _no one_ would be able to take it even if they did see past his little ruse. When he arrived at the slightly run down building he went straight up to his room and pushed the door open. He had locked it prior to leaving the paltry protections wizards had placed on the door were nothing to him. So he had placed extra precautions and he doubted anything would be able to get by what he had placed behind the door.

He entered and was immediately approached by a great white tiger. The cat was small compared to any of its wild companions but it was definitely huge, larger than any domestic cat no matter the breed would ever get. He was a tall man, but the tiger easily reached his hip at the shoulders.

"Nashira," He nodded politely to her, knowing the great cat would recognize the affection present in his voice though he doubted any other would. If an enemy knew how much this cat meant to him they would surely target her in order to get to him. He even neglected to show affection to those few humans who chose to call him friend rather than acquaintance. Anyone could turn out to be an enemy even if their intentions were good. A purr too low for normal hearing rumbled from Nashira's chest letting him know that she too felt the same.

"I have a gift for you," He said as the cat stalked towards him in a dignified manner as was the way of felines. Pulling the chain that held his blue stone he draped it over her neck and shrunk the chain so that is would not be able to go over her head again but at the same time would not be tight enough to chafe or rub her fur wrong. "Hold the Azraq for me, please." Nashira blinked her sapphire eyes in a particular way that he knew to mean 'yes, I understand'. "_Do not let any but me remove it,_" He added an a dead language that no one now knew fluent enough to speak. Nashira rumbled her approval and nudged his thigh affectionately.

"Come, I have some more errands to run. If you wish, you may accompany me." He said heading back towards the door. Nashira's continuing looming presence at his side was answer enough. Even though nothing of value was left in the room, he locked the door as they left. Where most were to afraid of bringing their most valued possession along with them for fear of losing it or having it stolen, he knew that his prize was safest by him, or more specifically, his companion. Still, some might become suspicious if he left the door unsecured.

The pair drew many pairs of eyes, most of them fearful, as they strolled as leisurely as possible down Diagon Alley. The increased attention was something he had become accustomed to as he had had many unusual animal companions throughout the years, some even stranger than a great white tiger, but Nashira had yet to become acclimated to being the focus of so many gazes. She growled at anyone who got to close; her fur bristled under the hand he had placed reassuringly on her shoulders. She had been in big crowds before, but he assumed that with the added responsibility of the Azraq she was a little on edge. He could not blame her, but she would have to conquer this feeling or it might give the importance of the crystal she was wearing away.

"_Calm,_" He whispered in the language only the two of them shared, hoping it would either serve as a reassurance or an admonishment. Either way it should get the effect he desired. And it did. Her tail was still twitching erratically, but that could be interpreted as normal cat behavior.

He needed another set of robes, something that would not scream 'traveler'. Some places that look was necessary to get what he wanted, but the place he intended to go, that image was not desired for him to be completely respected. Maybe a set of dark blue or green, close to his other set of threadbare black robes, but not quite. The same cut though, of course. Perhaps a tunic and pants would also be in order. He was not comfortable in wearing robes all of the time, though there had been times when that was all he could wear in order to keep up his false identity. That had been a long time ago and constantly wearing robes again was beginning to chafe his skin. The tunic and pants he would get would be a nondescript brown, maybe black or gray, whichever he could obtain faster and without measurements. He was not keen on taking off his cloak.

When they reached the shop he looked inside to see if Madame Malkin was occupied. It turned out she was. The witch was currently measuring and adjusting the robes of a blond-haired boy whose face seemed frozen in a perpetual grimace, as if something ugly had been thrust underneath his nose. The other, waiting to be seen to was the black-haired timid boy he had run into earlier. He decided to wait until both boys had cleared the shop.

He settled down on a nearby bench and Nashira promptly curled up next to him. He pulled her head into his lap and began to stroke her fur absently, wondering why he kept running into this particular Chosen One. True he had been attracted almost like a magnet to Chosen Ones before, unable to avoid them no matter how he had tried, always seeming to end up in the same place as them, but they always seemed to lose their allure once their task had been complete whether that meant their Dark Lord won or they prevailed. If this boy's job was done, why was he unconsciously pulled towards him. Perhaps his Dark Lord had not yet been defeated as it was obvious that this Chosen One had not lost.

_A/N: There it was. I have absolutely no idea where this is going so if you have any ideas please tell me! Even if you don't have an idea reveiws would be very nice._


	3. Chapter 3

_Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter _

_A/N: thanks to all my reviewers, here is the next chapter, enjoy_

Vault Number One

He left the robes shop and began walking towards the only place left where he might find what he needed. Ollivander's wand shop. As they passed the Owl Emporium Nashira growled and hunkered down. This action startled several pedestrians around them, but he ignored any save the tiger. Out of the corner of his eye he saw one particular bird. The creature was a perfect example of a snowy owl and it stared down at Nashira as if it were a queen inspecting a peasant. Nashira, unused to such scrutiny, especially from what she would normally consider prey, did not take to this well.

"Now now, Nashira. Where are your manners? That bird does not belong to us and I am not in the mood to pay for such a creature when it will only end up your snack." He admonished the great white cat. With one last glare at the owl, Nashira very pointedly turned her gaze to the opposite side of the street. He ran a hand down her back to smooth out her hackles that were still slightly raised. "Allow the bird its illusions, we both know who is the mightier hunter." He added and Nashira calmed down fully. By the time they reached the wand shop, the white tiger was back to her normal self.

The door chimed with a faint sound as man and tiger entered Ollivanders. He breathed deeply and immediately felt calm. This shop always held a strong aurora of magic about the building, strong enough that Nashira sneezed at the denseness of it as if it were a particularly strong odor.

"Good afternoon," a voice said from the depths of the shop and he waited patiently for the speaker to reveal themselves.

"Hello," he said, meeting silvery eyes in greeting.

"What can I do for you?" Ollivander asked, not seeming surprised to find a cloaked wizard and huge tiger in his rather confined and cluttered shop.

"I made a request for a very specific wand a few months ago and I was told to pick it up today."

"Oh yes!" Ollivander exclaimed brightly before rushing off to the back of the shop. The wand maker came back with a very ordinary looking, long, thin box. He took the box from Ollivander and opened it almost reverently.

"Strange request. Exactly twelve inches, petrified wood, hard to find, with a gryphon's wing feather as the magical core. It took me a while to find the materials needed, but I found them." Ollivander babbled, but he paid no attention. He already knew what materials he had requested and he knew they were rare and unorthodox. Still, he was not a true wizard, and the magic he had was very unorthodox for a wizard's spells. It had also been a long time since he had held a wand and he wanted it to be exactly like the one he had lost. He extracted the wand from its case carefully and smiled slightly when it hummed in recognition of its owner in his hand. The smooth shaft of dark wood was unusually heavy for a wand, but that would not be a problem for him. The surface of it was smooth and un-cracked, a clean slate. He would of course have to add his own enchantments in the form of carved runes and ancient words of power to it, but that was to be done latter, in privacy.

"Thank you," he told the wand maker, "And here are the ten Galleons I promised you."

Ollivander pocketed the coins as he left the shop, Nashira at his heels. He walked out into the middle of the street, grabbed Nashira by the scruff of the neck, making sure he grabbed the chain as well, and apparated out of Diagon Alley. He reappeared in a remote clearing in the middle of a nearly uninhabited forest. He quickly placed wards of hiding and protection around the clearing, making sure none would stumble upon him and this clearing. It would take the better part of a month to complete the marks of power on his new wand and he did not want to be interrupted in the process. None would be able to find, enter, or see inside the clearing until he lowered the wards. None would be able to accidentally enter by magical means either. The clearing was effectively cut off from the rest of the world both magical and muggle.

He sighed. Only here would he find the privacy and quiet he needed to complete his task. Nashira rubbed up against him in the friendly manner of cats before curling up at the base of a nearby tree. The tree the tiger had chosen was one of the few in the center of the perfect ring of trees that bordered the clearing. At the center of the warded space was an elliptical pool of clear water. The pool was shallow, but deep enough to reflect what happened above it. It was by this pool now, that he set out the tools he would need to complete his wand. Drawing forth from his ancient store of magical power, he set an enchantment on the small pool.

The next week, he simply left his wand to soak in the enchanted water, softening the wood and instilling more magical properties into it. Nashira left now and again to hunt, but for the most part the two subsisted on what he could conjure. The wards protected the clearing from the elements and remaining there was actually quite pleasant for them. It took an additional two weeks to carve all of the necessary symbols into the wood of the wand so that none intersected at the wrong point and they all combined to created a harmonious whole. This was not much of a problem as he had much practice at this and had preformed the proper procedure many times before. Near the end of the month, the wand was nearly complete and he needed only to wait for the last phase of the moon to occur to preform the last enchantment. When the moon was fully dark, he called Nashira over and carefully removed his treasured Azraq from its setting. He dipped it into the water and the liquid began to glow a deep silver at the contact. After moments he removed the stone, still dripping with the silvery liquid, and touched it to the central pattern on his wand. It was an ancient spiral design, a form of the endless knot, a Celtic pattern used to symbolize longevity. As the silvery liquid dripped from the stone and into the inscription, all of the inscribed symbols and patterns that interconnected with each other to create one single design began to emit a soft silvery glow much like the pool. He withdrew the stone and wiped the remaining liquid off before returning it to Nashira's collar. The lines that he had carved into the shaft of his wand remained glowing silver and he knew they would remain like that until the never ending pattern of lines on the surface was broken by a crack or a more severe break. Without giving it any further thought, he pocketed his wand and returned his gaze to the pool.

He gazed deeply into the magicked pool and reached out a single finger. As the tip of his finger brushed the silvery liquid it began to swirl and darken. After moments he could make out shapes in it. He muttered words of power in a long forgotten language and the image in the magicked pool grew clearer. It appeared to be an article or clipping from the Daily Prophet, but the date was written as some time in the future. In addition to the date, one other thing caught his attention. "Break in at Gringotts! Dark Wizards or Witches Suspected" the headline read. He focused more on the fine print. It was, or was going to be, a high security vault. He looked for the vault number and was only partially relieved when it was not vault one. The vault robbed did not reassure him, however. The vault in question was number 713, the home of one Sorcerer's Stone. He himself had laid down some of the stronger protections against theft on that vault. It was very bad if there was someone out there capable of breaking his wards. He pulled out of the vision and as dawn broke, the silvery sheen that had been cast on the water of the pool faded along with any magical properties the water might have gained. He leaned back, deep in thought. The article had said that the vault had been emptied earlier that day, most likely by someone under Dumbledore's orders. Perhaps it was about time he paid the old wizard a visit.

"Come, Nashira," he said to his feline friend as he let the wards around the clearing drop, "We have a train to catch."

_A/N: There it is, don't forget to review!_


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